Spring Break Bus Ride (entire tale)

I was a freshman in college at the University of Kansas. I had ten days for Spring Break in the middle of March and I determined to make the best of it. I decided to go visit my best friend in San Francisco and I would get there by Greyhound Bus. Two days on the bus there, six days to play and then two days back. I was young. I could deal with the sleeping in the seat and the discomfort. It was an adventure!

After boarding the bus in Lawrence, our first stop was Ft. Riley. A young soldier got on there. He had some leave and was on his way to see family in Utah. I was secretly pleased that he took a seat next to me. The other folks on the bus included a couple of women with small children, a very pregnant woman and her husband, two or three kids in their teens, a young woman with a guitar, which she stashed up above, and various and sundry representatives of a population who couldn’t afford to fly to wherever their final destination was.

From that point on, Kansas just appears to be one endless flat plain. There is nothing out there, save for the occasional herd of cattle. The wide-open expanse could either inspire awe or fear. I never understood the fear until a friend of mine from a big city explained that there is comfort to being closed in by buildings and knowing your boundaries. I’ve never been comforted by being closed in. Even though everything appeared to be perfectly level, the ground isn’t flat. There are rolling swales that hide amongst the rises. We couldn’t tell that from the Greyhound bus but the early settlers walking and traveling by wagon through those prairies knew that fact well.

The bus stopped for a rest break about two hours from the Colorado border. We all got out, walked around, used the restrooms and bought food. We saw the bus driver talking to some State Troopers over by the gas pumps but didn’t think much of it until he corralled us all back in the bus a bit earlier than we expected. He explained that there was some bad weather forecast and he needed to get on the road so that we could get to Denver ahead of it. If he isn’t worried, I thought, then we shouldn’t be. A little bad weather was no big deal.  It was getting on evening and most of us just quietly settled into our books or chatted quietly with our seatmates. About an hour in we noticed the snow. It didn’t start with little flakes swirling in the headlights. It started as a wall of snow coming right at us. We could still dimly see the other vehicles on the road ahead. The lights on the semi just in front were beacons that led the way. Soon, however, those lights disappeared in colorless haze around us. We were being buffeted by winds that howled and shook the bus. We stopped. The driver stood up in front and told us that we were in the middle of a blizzard and that the highway was closed. He was sure that we would get going again at first light but in the meantime, we should all get comfortable and wait it out. It wouldn’t be too long until the roads were cleared. There were various grumbles but folks around me seemed to be used to delays. My seatmate, the soldier, offered his lap for my feet as I curled up with my head on my backpack. I fell fast asleep until the first daylight. Well, I think that it was daylight. We still couldn’t see out of the windows and the wind was still howling. Folks began to stir, making their way back to the bathroom and walking to stretch out their cramped limbs. The mothers were trying hard to keep fussing children occupied.

Up in front, we could hear the driver talking on his radio quietly and he didn’t seem very happy. My seatmate stood up and made his way up to the front of the bus. After a soft conversation they both turned and faced the rest of us. “it seems that this storm won’t be abating as quickly as we thought”, said the driver. Tom, here, has had some experience with this type of thing as a soldier and I would appreciate it if you would all listen up and follow his directions.” Tom stepped forward. “The first thing we need to do is form a team to clear the exhaust pipe of the bus periodically. This is going to be dangerous work and you will be attached to a rope every time you step out of the bus. Do I have any volunteers?” Three young men stepped forward and the driver handed Tom the rope. He tied it to the rail of the bus and then threaded it through belt loops of the men. He also grabbed a trash can that had been up front. The door opened to a blast of freezing air and the men quickly jumped out. There was no sound as they hit the snow. The driver shut the door. It seemed like they were gone forever but it was just minutes later that the banging was heard on the door, and they were ushered back in, stomping the snow from their feet and shaking off their coats. “Folks, we are very lucky that the exhaust pipes are in the lee of the storm. That means that the snow isn’t as deep there, but we will still need to go out hourly and check it if we are going to keep running the bus.” He pointed down to the trash can now filled with snow. “This will be our water supply. It will melt pretty quickly.” Tom went on to ask people to ration their food and if they had any extra, to please share it with folks that didn’t. He expected that we would be here a while. I could hear some grumbling and even some tears. The children needed to move, and the parents were exhausted. I looked around and I saw the guitar stashed up above. I asked the owner if she would be willing to play and she eagerly agreed. A bigger space was cleared for her toward the rear, and she settled in. A set of traditional children’s songs started things off and the children were sent back to join in on the music. Soon, we were all singing along. A series of games followed the music, and this helped to keep our minds off of what was happening outside of our snowed in home. The periodic trooping out of the men to clear the exhaust and to refill the snow bucket marked the hours.

We were all getting hungry, and the bathroom situation had gotten problematic. Some women volunteered to do what cleaning they could, but the holding tanks were full. The next step would be for our volunteers to open it up and just dump it underneath us. “how much longer?” cried several people. “Why can’t we just get out and walk?”. “You are holding us prisoner!” That last complainer was a troublemaker if I ever saw one and I tried to engage him in conversation to distract him. It didn’t work. Tom tried talking to him, but he only quieted down for a short while. Evening came and the howling winds seemed to have calmed down. After passing around what little food was left amongst us there was nothing to do but try to sleep or read. I eyed the overhead rack and with a quick boost from Tom, I was able to stretch out with my coat as a pillow.

Our second morning dawned with many of us bleary from lack of sleep and food. The by now familiar sound of the bus door being opened was followed by the pipe clearing team. They had great news! The storm had passed. They then did their best to clear some of the snow off the windows. We were greeted by an endless expanse of solid white, made blazingly bright with the sunlight bouncing off of the surface. Excitement filled all of us and people even began to collect their things. “Not so fast folks!”, said the driver. “We are going to be here for a while longer. Maybe even two more days. The interstate is closed for over a hundred miles, and it is fifteen feet deep in some places. You see those lumps up ahead? Those are semi-trucks and they are buried.” A loud groan rose and people started getting angry. “Why can’t they just get a plow out and clear it? They are just lazy!”, shouted the troublemaker. There was some mumbling of agreement. The driver held up his hand and said “I’ve got some better news for you. There is a woman up ahead who was traveling alone to her ski lodge. The trucker in front of us has spoken to her and it seems that she has a car full of groceries. If we can get a team to form a human chain, go out there to retrieve her and the groceries, we should be good for a while”. Hands shot up everywhere. Food was a motivating factor but so was an activity.

Tom outlined the safety procedures to be followed and a line of ten volunteers happily trooped out. Although they stayed in the lee of the wind and the snow, it took quite a while to create a safe path to tread in. An hour passed before we saw them again. They returned like triumphant hunters with bags of food meant for a lodge full of skiers. The woman who gifted this also came with them. She cried tears of joy from being rescued. Soon, sandwiches were being made, fruit cut into slices and small dixie cups of juice being passed around. It was a party atmosphere.  That was when a soft moan came from one of the seats. I looked over and saw the pregnant woman go pale. She let out a louder cry. “How far along are you?”, I asked. “Almost 9 months. I thought I would get to my family with plenty of time, but I think this baby is coming”. Oh no. This was not good. I called to Tom and asked him what we should do. The driver got on his radio and sent out an urgent “Mayday!” The locals were going to attempt a rescue and were scrambling their resources. This woman needed to get off that bus fast. Time passed in a blur as people put their heads together trying to figure out how to deliver a baby with no clean space or even hot water. The anxiety was rising and even an attempt at a sing along wasn’t going to calm it. We all fell into a silence broken only by the soft cries of the mom to be.

“I see something!” yelled one of the children. We all turned toward where the woman was, horrified that that child could see the baby coming. “No!” he yelled, “out there! There are people coming”. Sure enough, we could see three snow mobiles working their way across the snow pulling a large sled. A rescue team! A shout of jubilation filled the air, and we all knew that our snow bound confinement would soon be over. The team came aboard and assessed the woman they had come for. After ascertaining that she could make the trip, they wrapped her up warmly in blankets and secured her on the sled. Mr. Troublemaker barged out and tried unsuccessfully, to jump aboard the sled as well. “Why are you rescuing her and not us?”, he howled. Help will soon be here, they assured him. Just be patient. The snow mobiles slid off toward the white horizon and we all wondered when it would be our turn. Mr. Troublemaker was not going to give up. He wanted to get off the bus and insisted that there must be a town close by where he could walk to. The driver refused to let him out, but he managed to slip out with the next exhaust clearing mission. He dove out of the bus and immediately sank up to his waist in the snow. He just kept on moving, plowing his way toward where he thought freedom would be, following the tracks of the snow mobiles. I don’t know what happened to him or if he ever made it. The rest of the evening passed much as had the night before. Emotional exhaustion had set in and we were all feeling a bit dazed. It was hard to believe that we would ever leave this prison of white.

Morning three dawned with the sun blinding on the perfect blanket of snow. The outlines of fences were making themselves known. The rounded forms in front of us began to take shape as tractor trailers and cars. It finally became clear that we were not the only vehicles out there. Our heads perked up as we heard helicopters coming in. Huge transport trucks were also making their way across the fields toward us. Hugs and kisses and tears of joy were seen all around as we realized that we really were going to be rescued. The National Guard had been mobilized and they were there for us. The women and children were taken off first and put on the helicopters. We were all taken to a nearby town’s Community Center where we were greeted with lots of warm food and clothing that had been donated. The townspeople took us all into their homes to sleep and shower. It took another day to get our bus cleared out and there was a bittersweet reunion with our travel mates when we climbed back on to continue our interrupted journey. I did finally make it to San Francisco. I took an extra week off from school and flew back. I wasn’t chancing another adventure.